


Well, He's Never Going To Be President Now

by SGSKHKT



Series: Pride Is The Word I'm Looking For [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Sad Ending, Sad Floris | Fundy, all i write is fundy angst, fundy deserves better, i wrote this before wilbur did his whole insanity arc, this is very old and not very plot relevent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27798121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SGSKHKT/pseuds/SGSKHKT
Summary: “I’ve been hearing things from little birdies,” the dictator said, admiring an enchanted netherite sword with unsettling nonchalance.Fundy felt his heart drop as he watched the tell-tale glint of a sharpness enchantment.“Things about betrayals, things about spies. You uh- You happen to know anything about that?”The fox’s heart rate picked up.“I… don’t, no.”
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot
Series: Pride Is The Word I'm Looking For [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968136
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	Well, He's Never Going To Be President Now

“Hey, Fundy,” Schlatt started, his tone casual but with an underlying tone of malice as always.

“Yeah?” Fundy asked, wary. What Schlatt thought was always a mystery to him. What Schlatt knew was a threat.

“I’ve been hearing things from little birdies,” the dictator said, admiring an enchanted netherite sword with unsettling nonchalance.

Fundy felt his heart drop as he watched the tell-tale glint of a sharpness enchantment.

“Things about betrayals, things about spies. You uh- You happen to know anything about that?”

The fox’s heart rate picked up.

“I… don’t, no.”

“Is that so?” Schlatt asked, his tone icy.

Fundy shuddered as a shiver went down his spine.

“I-“

Then Schlatt lunged forward.

Fundy flinched, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation for the blow-

That never came.

His eyes snapped open.

No-

His father collapsed onto him, securing him in a tight hug despite the sword sticking out of his back.

No, no, no-

Fundy felt the sickening warmth of his father's blood seep through his shirt.

“...Dad?” he asked, shakily, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Hey, Fundip,” his father says weakly.

He choked back a sob at the childhood nickname, a name he hadn't heard in ages.

He hugged his father tighter, burying his face into his shoulder.

“I’m really proud of you.”

He sobbed into his father’s shoulder as if he was a child again.

He remembered his father hugging him like that after his mother had left down the river and he had woken up in the dark, alone and afraid. He remembered wailing into his father’s shoulder similarly as his father sang a soft melody to calm him down.

But he wasn’t a child anymore. He was older now. He should have known better. Why didn’t he know better?

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“

Wilbur didn’t respond, instead humming the same soft melody he had years ago, the familiar tune broken up by his laboured breathing.

Fundy clung to his father tightly, his hands shaking as sobs wracked his chest, tears completely obscuring his vision.

“I… I’m really proud of you, Fundy,” his father repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, the words slow and deliberate, as if they were painful to say.

He felt his father’s embrace loosen and the world around him crashed as his father’s arms fell to the floor.

His heart shattered, his breathing picking up as if the shards had lodged themselves into his lungs.

“No, no, no, no, no, no- Dad, please! Please- I’m sorry- Dad-“

If he thought he was cold before he was fucking frigid now. He felt as if any ounce of warmth in the world was gone, reduced to nothing. He felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest and disintegrated. Eret told him that matter couldn’t be made or destroyed. He wondered if that was another thing the traitor lied about.

“Dad? Dad, please! Dad!” he yelled, gripping tightly onto his father’s bloody jacket, the tears in his eyes rolling freely down his face. He shook his father’s body as if it could instill some semblance of life back into the man.

“Please come back, please- Please don’t leave me,” he begged, his voice cracking as he buried his head into his father’s shoulder again.

He heard Schlatt laugh.

“Well,” he said, ripping the netherite sword out of Wilbur’s back, the shimmering purple stained with dark red.

“That’s one less thing to worry about.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I predicted Wilbur getting fuckin stabbed
> 
> This was written before Wilbur revealed he was gonna blow up Manberg and I didn't bother editing it to fit the canon
> 
> This is my first time writing character death I don't know what I'm doing
> 
> Leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed and thanks in advance if you do <3


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